Memories of the Past
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: Alexander Waverly thought his past was dead and buried until it stared him in the eye and blinked. No warnings


For Reapermum

It was just an ordinary day in the world of Alexander Waverly. He kissed his wife and left for work with his driver. He carefully maneuvered through the hidden entrance to UNCLE and came out into his well-appointed and tidy office. His coffee and Danish were waiting for him. The sun wasn't any brighter, the sky no bluer and the clouds no more or less bucolic.

His desk was its usual neat self with the assignment roster to one side of his blotter, the world news carefully capsulated for his perusal. His pencils were sharpened, his appointment book carefully centered. In short, it was a typical day in his world.

He didn't pay much attention as his two top agents entered. Solo and Kuryakin were bantering back and forth about something. Then Solo elbowed Kuryakin and the man cringed, apparently favoring a forgotten injury, and his coffee went all over his white shirt.

"Napoleon," Kuryakin scolded.

"Sorry, but at least it's not Canteen coffee." Solo started mopping at it with his handkerchief.

"What difference does that make?" Kuryakin was pulling off his jacket.

"Outside coffee and there's a chance Del can save the shirt. Canteen coffee and it would have eaten through the fabric already. "

Waverly only paid the two the minimal amount of attention. Then he saw it as Kuryakin was peeling off his soiled shirt.

"My word, Mr. Kuryakin. What have you there?" He managed to get the words out, but both men were studying him as if he'd suddenly turned purple. It was a safe assumption that his voice betrayed something.

"What, sir?" Kuryakin looked down. Resting on his tee shirt was his medallion. "This? It's my grandmother's. It was passed down to me. She said it would keep me safe."

"May I?" He held out a hand, barely managing to keep it from trembling.

Kuryakin studied him for a long moment and then undid the clasp and passed it to him, dropping it into the outstretched palm.

The metal was still warm from the young man's body heat and Waverly turned it over and over in his fingers, studying the details. It was worn from wear and tarnished, but it was still hers.

Suddenly, the day became a little less usual.

"Oh, Alexi, it's beautiful!" Irina's eyes glistened with tears as she fastened the delicate chain around her neck. It reflected the candlelight back to Alexander as he watched the small medallion come to rest between her ample breasts.

"It's St. Anne. She's the patron saint of housekeepers. She was also the mother of Mary." _Something for you to remember me,_ he thought as he leaned back against the pillows. He'd never thought to have been this comfortable with a naked woman, but this wasn't just any woman. This was his Irina and he was in love for the first time in his young life.

"Is there one for protection from handsome men?" She reached up to trace his moustache with a gentle finger.

He laughed at that and kissed her and then kissed her again. Alexander Waverly was a man with the world on a string. He was strong and resourceful and at the moment, he was very, very happy.

When Valentin had suggested that Alex might enjoy a holiday in the Ukraine, he'd balked. He'd planned to spend the year working in London and wandering the countryside, looking for adventure. Valentin convinced him that the adventure back in the Ukraine far out-weighed that in dirty, congested London. In the end, Alex had acquiesced.

He'd never thought to be welcomed so warmly into a friend's family, but he soon became a second son to them. Then Alex had met Irina, a maid, either by accident or design, he didn't care.

She was a blue eyed blonde charmer and Alex had fallen for her in a heartbeat. They celebrated many warm summer nights among the haystacks in the field. He'd never felt for a woman the way he felt for her and when she lay back, her body beckoning to him, he'd willingly followed.

"Sir?" The voice of his CEA shook him from his daydream and he looked over at Solo. The man's face was clouded with concern. "Are you all right or would you like to rest for a moment?"

Alexander smiled in what he'd hoped was a reassuring manner. "I'm sorry, Mr. Solo, I was indulging in a bit of woolgathering. An unfortunate part of growing older, I fear." He continued to study the medallion as he reached for his teacup. "Do you know the history of this, Mr. Kuryakin?"

"Not very much, I'm afraid." Kuryakin watched Solo out of the corner of his eye. His body language was shouting at his partner and Waverly wondered if the young man was even aware of it. "My grandmother gave it to my mother. She said it had been the only thing that had gotten her through the Great Revolution. When I was getting ready to leave for school, Mama gave it to me and said it would keep me safe as well."

"Except for possibly of know which end of a horse to walk up to," Solo commented. Waverly realized that he could see the bruising even through the thin material of Kuryakin's tee shirt.

"Have you been seen by Medical, Mr. Kuryakin?"

"Close enough."

"Walking past the doors doesn't count, Kuryakin," Solo joked. "You really should have it checked out."

"Mr. Solo, escort Mr. Kuryakin to Medical, please, before leaving for your assignment. He won't be of any good to UNCLE if he collapses in the field."

"I will, sir." Solo made the sound of a whip cracking and Kuryakin tweaked one corner of his mouth up.

"Slave driver."

"You got that right." He gave Kuryakin a push and Alexander watched them walk from the room. Suddenly, he realized he still held the medallion. It had grown cold and he hastily dropped it to the blotter as if it had bitten him.

"_How's Irina, Val?"_

"_She had to leave us. Some local got her in the family way. She went back home to Kiev. Mom was not happy about it. Said she was spreading stories and had aspirations above her station."_

"_Surely you are kidding. Not Irina!"_

"_Gospel truth, my friend, She wouldn't say who it was, though."_

And fool that he was, Alexander hadn't done the math. Irina hadn't been ruined by some local boy, but by him. She'd offered and he'd taken and then left. She'd never even attempted to contact him or so he'd thought. Perhaps she had confided in Val's mother and had been rebuked or, worse, called a liar for accusing him of such a thing. Not Alexander Waverly!

She'd gone and had a daughter and he'd never known a thing about it. And now her grandson… his grandson stood before him.

Waverly had shaken off the feeling of _déjà vu_ when he'd first met the young Russian who'd been setting the London office on fire. Alexander had looked at those intense blue eyes and the blond hair and had, for some inexplicable reason, smelled hot, dusty straw and felt a warm summer breeze on his face.

Now he knew. Alexander sat back in his chair and wondered about his course of action. He'd done his share of mischief in the war, dallied with a willing girl here and there, but he'd never been unfaithful to his wife… well, not as of late. What would her reaction be when she discovered not only had he had a daughter out of wedlock, but now his grandson worked for him?

His mind began to spin and he braced himself upon the desktop, taking several deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

Alexander wasn't sure how much time had passed, but there was a chime at his door. It slid open a moment later to admit Kuryakin. He'd changed into a black turtleneck and was obviously ready to leave for his mission.

"Sir, I'm sorry for the intrusion, but I left my medallion here. Grandmother would never forgive me if I misplaced it."

"Your grandmother is still alive, Mr. Kuryakin?" Waverly pushed the medallion and chain across the desk to him.

"She passed away last year, sir, surrounding by family and friends."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"She had a full life and died without pain or suffering. It is all that any of us can hope for." Kuryakin picked up the medallion and put it on. He regarded the gold disc a moment before tucking it safely away. "The last time I visited home, she told me a funny story."

"Did she?"

"Yes, about a young British boy she met one summer and how he'd given her this medallion as a keepsake. She never forgot him, sir. She told me that no matter what happened, he always had a special place in her heart that no one else could share. "

"Oh?"

"You see, she really loved him, enough to take his identity to her grave. No one, not even Mama ever knew his name…" Kuryakin gave him a small ghost of a smile. "_Дед_ (Grandfather)."

For a moment, Alexander stared at him. "How long have you known?"

"Known what, sir?" The smile became sly. "I think her decision a wise one and not something to be challenged. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, young man, I do." Alexander felt a weight shift off his shoulders, not that he was ashamed of Illya being his grandson, but of having a memory stained with scandal. "Thank you. You'd best run along before Mr. Solo leaves without you."

Kuryakin grinned and held up a set of keys. "He can't without these."

And he was gone and Waverly looked out his window at this exceedingly special day. There was nothing ordinary about it for he saw everything again with eyes of a young man. He saw the incredibly blue sky and the fluffy white clouds and he could once again feel the soft kiss of tender lips to his cheek and his love of an incredible woman. For she was right, he, too, kept a place in his heart for the first girl he'd ever loved, ever wanted, and would forever remember.


End file.
